


Faith and Trust

by erikaehm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikaehm/pseuds/erikaehm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Pixie Dust.</p><p>Or the one where Angelique really needs to brush up on her Latin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith and Trust

“The last time you translated Latin for us, you were wrong.” Lydia’s voice isn’t sharp. She’s not trying to be mean, merely pointing out a fact. “Lots of people died.” She adds like an afterthought, casting a sideways glance at Angelique. “Are you sure you’ve got this spell right? I don’t mind looking it over, you know.” She keeps pace with the older woman easily. Derek, ahead of them, snorts and mutters under his breath to Scott.

 

Angelique presses her lips into a thin line, clutching the paper closer to her chest. “I can assure you that I’ve brushed up on my Latin since the last time I was translating. If you remember, I wasn’t aware at the time that it was a life or death situation or I would have spent more time on the translation.”

 

“This isn’t life or death either.” Lydia points out, flashing Stiles a smile when he helps her step over a fallen log. “It won’t take me more than an hour.”

 

“Even if I got it wrong.” Angelique says, patience running thin. “There’s nothing bad that could happen. It’s a location spell. Once we find the pixies, we can get Jackson back to normal. I know you’re worried about him Lydia, but you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing, and I’ve been doing it a Hell of a lot longer than you have. Just up ahead Derek, I can do it there.” She calls out to her boyfriend, mentally rolling her eyes.

 

She does _not_ need to have the whole pack with her for such a simple spell. “Honestly.” She sighs. “ _What_ could go wrong.”

 

Boyd glances over his shoulder at her, face solemnly blank. “In my personal experience, whenever one of us says that, everything goes wrong.” He sounds downright miserable but it only strengthens Angelique’s resolve.

 

If anyone had told her two years ago that she’d be trying to prove herself to a group of eighteen year olds, she’d have scoffed and offered them half priced therapy.

 

Now, there’s nothing more important than proving her magical skills to these eighteen year olds. And their hot, twenty five year old Alpha she’s staked a claim over.

 

She can _so_ do this.

 

“If you’re that worried.” She says, voice mild but eyes cold – and she can see Derek smirking to himself when she slips by him into the clearing, the bastard – “Then you are more than welcome to leave. As I said before, I can do this alone.”

 

A flicker of _something_ rushes through the group, yet no one leaves. They watch her calmly, settling to form a semi circle with Derek at the forefront. They surround her and this sense of unity they’ve worked damn _hard_ to build is a balm to her battered ego.

 

They’re silent and still as she wanders around the clear, tracing runes into soft soil. Magic comes easily to Angelique, always has. Her mother – and her grandmother – had both practiced it with ease, and it had been passed down to her through her blood and endless hours of teaching.  She could remember the first time she’d done a spell correctly.

 

There’d been a bird that had flown into her window. She was eight at the time, just barely learning, but her love for nature and need to heal pain had fixed tiny, brittle bones. Her mother had found her in the yard, muddy and on her knees, clutching the little songbird between her palms as she begged it to be okay. The woman had stayed back, watching, quietly urging her to _focus_.

 

A shimmer of blue had weaved through mangled feathers. It had drained her. She’d slid to the ground, weak, one palm upturned. She had cried when the songbird had chirped, jumping out of her hands before taking flight. She’d kept crying, even as her mother had cradled her close and whispered teary words of pride into her hair.

 

She’d been taught then, the power of dark magic versus good. What she had done was _good_ magic, and the memory, the pride in herself for saving a life that mattered to no one at all, is a secret happiness she still carries with her.

 

It is, point in fact, her anchor in this world. The sweet memory of chirping, of a tiny beating heart under her fingertips sounds steadily into the back of her head as she stands in the centre of her runes, drawing the power of her surroundings to her. She watches half lidded as the familiar blue of her inner strength casts a glow across the clearing, runes lighting in blue flame, as she wills them.

 

She tosses Lydia as smirk as the final rune is lit. The power of her magic makes her body buzz and she releases a steady breath, proud of herself for completing the spell. She waits for what the book told her would happen – the way her mind would map out a path to the thing she needs to find.

 

Which, this time, is pixies. One’s that have put a rather irritating if harmless love spell on Jackson.

 

A low hum fills the clearing and Angelique frowns. The book didn’t mention that, and the pack can clearly hear it too. It isn’t her magic doing this.

 

“Oh _fuck_.” And that’s Stiles squealing, tossing his hands over his head as he ducks beneath a swarm of shimmering color.

 

Angelique stares, horrified, as the pixies begin pulling on Derek’s hair. The alpha is roaring at them, irritated, and halfway to biting one of the little monsters he’s managed to catch in his hand.

 

 _Not a location spell, then_. She thinks, screaming at Derek to _drop it!_ They won’t get the pixies help if their alpha decapitates them.

 

It was a _summoning spell_.

 

She studiously ignores Lydia’s “I told you so!” face, ducking herself to avoid an enraged pixie that’s trying to claw at her eyes.

 

When all is said and done – thankfully no decapitation and the pixies are content to fix Jackson if the werewolves promise not to claw up any more of their trees – Angelique is exhausted. Her hair is a wreck, her clothes are shredded, and she sprawls in the grass between Allison and Stiles with a groan.

 

“While I appreciate the results of this little experiment.” Lydia says, lowering herself carefully beside Jackson, to recline against her boyfriends legs. “I have to say that I don’t appreciate your methods. Next time? I translate.”

 

Angelique glances at Derek – who _still_ has shimmering pixie dust in his hair, which he’s trying desperately to shake off – and heaves a sigh. “Deal.”


End file.
